Spellbound
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Sherlock's a werewolf detective who falls for the enchanting Molly Hooper, a beautiful young witch. She is a pathologist who momentarily brings corpses back to life to find out their cause of death. Written for Sherlolly Halloween at 221B 2017!
1. Enchanted to Meet You

Sherlock had to be careful. There was a full moon tonight and he had to solve this case before the change began. Mike Stamford was leading him and John to the morgue to meet with the new pathologist, Doctor Molly Hooper.

"She's a genius!" Mike exclaimed. "I've never seen anyone solve causes of death like she can."

"Hmf," Sherlock grunted, insulted that Stamford found this pathologist to be more competent than him. So what if he was jealous? He'd never admit that out loud, though John suspected he was.

"Hello Molly, this is—" Mike was interrupted by the baritone voice of the man beside him.

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective," he spoke with pride.

"Oh, I've heard of you," she smiled brightly, her deep brown eyes sparkling.

"Uh, yes, well…" he trailed off, gulping heavily. "I need to see the body, so make it quick." His tone was clipped. Molly narrowed her eyes at him. _He's lucky I don't sew his mouth shut_.

"As you wish," she complied, her tone dripping with a thick sweetness that could have caused cavities. Sherlock felt his teeth ache momentarily and Molly watched with amusement as he furrowed his brows. The pain went away as fast as it came but she was sure that would teach him a lesson.

"This man was obviously drowned," Sherlock pointed out.

"Yes, and judging by the marks around his neck, he was facing his killer, which means he knew this person," Molly added.

"And his killer was so obviously a jilted lover," he continued.

"Boring and cliché," they spoke in unison. John and Mike looked between the two who's eyes have been locked for longer than thirty seconds.

"Okay, that's getting a bit scary now," John remarked. This was definitely going to be an interesting work relationship for his friend.

 **One Hour Earlier**

"Alright, Mr. Duncan, let's see if you remember who murdered you," Molly said, mostly to herself. With a jolt of electricity from her index finger, the corpse on the slab shot right up.

"Where am I? Why am I so cold?" he panicked.

"I need you to calm down, Mr. Duncan," she told him. "Who was the last person you saw before everything went black? I need you to focus."

"My—no…yes—my girlfriend. She was angry with me for cheating and—oh my God did she kill me!?" he exclaimed.

"That will be all, thank you, Mr. Duncan," she smiled. Another jolt from her finger and he was dead once more.


	2. Broken Chains

A pounding knock on the door alerted the resident within the townhouse in Belgravia. Long, blood red nails clicked against the doorknob as it twisted. Upon opening the door, she noticed Sherlock Holmes on her stoop.

"Darling, how nice of you to drop by," Irene grinned, revealing her sharp fangs. "Full moon already?"

"Yes and I am not your darling," he growled, letting himself through the threshold.

"Now, now, don't take the fun out of me having to chain you up in my dungeon," she smirked. "Though, I can't stay long. I need to feed tonight." She lead him down to the secret floor of the townhouse that was located belowground.

"Just remember not to drain them completely," Sherlock told her. "I had to cover up your mess last time."

"I promise I won't; drink then compel them to forget…easy," Irene replied.

Once he was safely chained up, she blew him a kiss and left for her late night snack session. Vampires and werewolves never got along, but Sherlock and Irene tolerated each other. They had had a one-time fling a couple of years ago but Sherlock refused to continue it.

The full moon had reached its peak and Sherlock felt the familiar change go through his body. He wasn't so sure the shackles would hold this time, and as they creaked with his changing form, worries filled his mind. What would happen if he hurt somebody or if he was spotted in the streets of London? _Werewolves of London_ , he thought with amusement. The shackles broke as he became full wolf and he found his way through the house running off into the night.

* * *

Molly was leaving the hospital when she noticed the large onyx wolf in front of her. She showed no fear though. There was only one person who had those beautiful cerulean eyes. He was showing his teeth at her as he snarled. Molly cast a glamour so nobody would see them.

"Sherlock," she whispered, stepping closer hesitantly with her arm outstretched. "Hey, it's alright." He had growled at her to get her to run, until he realized she was not as normal as she had seemed. Eventually, he lowered his head so she could pet him. Her small hand made contact with his thick, soft fur and he nuzzled his head against her palm. "Come with me, you'll be safe, I promise."

She led him through the backways of the city to her flat and allowed him inside. Once the door was locked behind her, she lifted the invisible veil that hid him from the others. Sherlock's mind was reeling. It's not that he didn't still think like his human self, but when hunger took over, he tended to lose control. So, naturally, he was curious as to how Molly was able to tame him.

He watched as she prepared something in the kitchen. From the faint chanting he heard, he knew immediately she was a witch. Molly set the bowl on the floor in front of him.

"Well? Eat up," she told him. "Believe me, you're not going to fit on my sofa in wolf form." He gave her a questioning look—or as close to it as he could. "Oh! You need clothes! Give me a moment." Molly disappeared into her bedroom and tossed a large t-shirt and a pair of stretchy grey sweatpants on the sofa. "I won't look, I promise."

With her back turned, Sherlock began to lap up the soup, and soon enough, he was a man again; a very naked man at the moment. He quickly slipped on the clothes she had brought him.

"That was different," he commented. "How did you know it was me?"

"Your eyes," she replied. "They're unique."

"And you're a…witch?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. I'm far from the green skinned type, aren't I?" she laughed. The mellifluous sound of it gave him goosebumps.

"Yes, well, I must be going now," he said curtly.

"Aren't you even going to thank me?" Molly asked.

"Thank…you?" he made a face at the words that left his lips, for he never showed common courtesy of his own free will. "Just—look, if anyone asks, I was in a drug den."

"What!?" she exclaimed. "That's your cover story?"

"It's the only one people believe when I suddenly pop off to nowhere," he explained.

"Right then," she remarked. "Just one last thing?"

"Yes?"

"Are you related to a William Holmes?" she questioned.

"That's my father's name, but it is also my true first name. William Sherlock Scott Holmes is the whole of it," he answered. "Why?"

"I was just wondering," Molly told him. Of course she wasn't telling him that she had a recurring dream since she was thirteen and first gained her abilities. Within this dream, it was just her writing the name William Holmes in an old leather journal. She never knew what it meant but now she had a chance to find out.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, anyone surprised about Irene? I think vampire suits her. And Molly has a secret, whilst Sherlock is trying to keep his distance as usual. Virtual Halloween candy of your choice if you leave a sweet review!


	3. Bonding

"Problem, brother mine?" Mycroft smiled smugly. Not many people knew, but Mycroft 'The British Government' Holmes was also a werewolf. It is an old family curse they were born into from their father's side. Their mother was aware of it, though she was not supernatural herself, but she did have quite the IQ.

"What are you smiling about?" Sherlock asked. It had been two weeks since the full moon. He had trouble staying away from Molly. Not only was it out of necessity for his job but he found that he did not want to keep away and he didn't know why.

"Nothing, I assure you," the eldest Holmes replied. "It seems you're becoming cozy with Miss Hooper."

"Cozy? Really? I'm trying to distance myself," he assured him.

"She seems to have you…under her spell," Mycroft chuckled. He had suspected that Molly was a witch, but Sherlock had never confirmed it. Little did his brother know, he had just planted a thought in Sherlock's head.

* * *

"Here you are, Toby," Molly said, scratching her kitty's ear. He was a beautiful black cat with golden eyes. Though it was a bit cliché, she loved her little companion. The sounds of her lock being picked didn't alert her in the slightest.

"Come in, Sherlock," she called out.

"You're very intuitive, aren't you?" he asked when the door opened, noticing Toby. "I knew I smelled a feline."

"Behave," she scolded. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"I need a place to stay—just for the night, I assure you," he explained. "I had arrangements with an acquaintance of mine, but I don't enjoy her company."

"And you enjoy mine?" Molly questioned with a small smile.

"Truth be told, yes," Sherlock answered. "You are intelligent and much more tolerable."

"Oh, well, if that's all," she remarked. He looked exhausted. "Oh, alright, you can take the guest room."

"Thank you, Molly," he told her. As he walked by, their fingers brushed together and a jolt of energy went through both of them. "What was that?"

"I—I don't know," she replied. Sherlock wasn't sure if she was telling the truth, but then again, Molly never gave him reason to distrust her.

* * *

This habit of Sherlock using Molly's flat as his bolt hole continued two days a week over the last month. They took to ordering takeaway and settling in with whatever film they decided on for that night. Tonight was unlike the others. Warm Bodies was playing on the telly and they had just finished their meal.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Molly asked. "We're completely abnormal beings, but we do such normal things behind closed doors."

"I suppose it is amusing, yes," Sherlock agreed. A moment of silence passed with their focus turned back to the movie. "Can you reanimate the dead?"

"I can, but only for a few moments," she admitted. "Nothing permanent is possible."

"Is that why you're such a good pathologist then? You just ask the corpses on your slab who killed them?" he laughed.

"Actually, yes, I do ask them," she told him. "But, that is not why I'm a good pathologist. I did go through all of the schooling and graduated top of my class, thank you very much."

"Impressive," Sherlock remarked. She smiled at him kindly, one that was normally reserved for him. It made his heart accelerate.

* * *

When they went off to their separate bedrooms—yes, it was now Sherlock's room in her mind—Molly was relieved to settle down into her pillows. Ever since the first night he spent at her flat, her recurring dream began to reveal more, but not much. Now, she could see her entire left hand more clearly as it wrote the name in the journal. There was a band of white gold on her finger with a moonstone center. She had never seen a ring quite like it before.

"Molly?" Sherlock whispered into her room. "Are you still awake?"

"Yes, why?" she asked.

"May I stay with you tonight?" he inquired. "Tonight is a night terror night." Sherlock never told her what the nightmare was about, but she never pushed him to reveal it either.

"Of course you can," Molly told him. There were nights he'd have the recurring nightmare of a memory from childhood. He had been playing with his childhood friend, Victor Trevor. His sister, Eurus, would play with them on occasion. Then, came the day she began to shift for the first time. Victor had made his way over in the late evening to try and get Sherlock to have a nighttime treasure hunt. Eurus was a new wolf who lost control too easily, and accidentally ended Victor's life.

Sherlock waited until Molly was sound asleep. He listened to her steady heartbeat to calm him. She stirred a bit when he wrapped his arm around her in a big spoon position. The intoxicating scent of her overwhelmed him. It was flowery with a hint of vanilla and honey; it was just so Molly. He nuzzled his nose against the nape of her neck, breathing in her scent, eventually falling into a deep sleep.

The dream in Molly's head revealed more to her that night. She was acutely aware of the fact Sherlock had his arm around her. He was just as cuddly as his wolf counterpart seemed to be. As her dream self wrote his name repeatedly in the journal, with her ring finger bejeweled with a beautiful moonstone on a white gold band, she heard a violin playing. The new element was the beautiful melody that was playing in the background. What it meant, she did not know, but in time, she'd find out it was one of Sherlock's many hobbies.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** What did y'all think of my twist on the Eurus and Victor thing? Still explains why Sherlock tries to distance himself even though he can't stay away.


	4. All Hearts are Broken

When Molly woke the next morning, Sherlock was gone. She wouldn't hear from him or see him until a few days later.

"Molly, I need you to wheel out Mr. Tyler's body," Sherlock's voice filled the once silent morgue.

"Please and thank you," Greg added.

"Asphyxiation was the cause of death," she informed them.

"I told you," Sherlock looked at Lestrade. "It was an illegal business deal gone bad…utterly typical."

"Then why don't you take a look at Miss Pierce's body?" Molly suggested. "Her circumstances are curious as to the fact I cannot find a single bit of evidence of who could have killed her."

"How did she die?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It would seem she was smothered in her sleep," Molly replied. "The weird part is that she lives alone and there were absolutely no signs of a break in."

"Suicide?" Sherlock suggested.

"Nothing to suggest it, but I suppose we can't dispute it either," she told him.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "This case is practically a ten!"

"You just made his life," Greg remarked to Molly, who only bit her lip in response.

* * *

Molly entered 221B for the first time, taking in the gorgeous Victorian detailing of the flat. It felt cozy and comforting. Upon spotting the desk, a sense of déjà vu hit her hard. A brief vision of her recurring dream flashed before her. _No, it couldn't be_ , she thought.

Setting her bag down on the coffee table, Molly took it upon herself to go toward the desk. She began tracing her fingers along the edge, feeling a powerful connection wash over her. Somehow, Sherlock was connected to her, and she had the feeling that it was more than just friendship. Molly had been falling in love with him over the past few months but she never once hinted at it. Did he feel the same? Was her dream precognitive?

When Sherlock finally emerged from his bedroom after the phone call from Mycroft, he saw Molly sitting at the desk. She was writing furiously on a piece of loose leaf notebook paper.

"Molly? Are you alright?" he asked, approaching her. It was revealed to him that she was writing his name over and over again.

 **William Holmes. William Holmes. William Holmes. William Holmes. William Holmes.** **William Holmes. William Holmes. William Holmes.**

"Molly, please, say something," he panicked. It was as if she was possessed, as she was unaware of anything else. Sherlock took her face in his hands and forced her to lock eyes with him. The pen dropped from her hand as her gaze changed from zombie-like to recognition, but no words were spoken. He began to lean in, edging closer to meet her soft pink lips. Closer and closer still, their lips met briefly, a full image of them in 221B flashing in both of their heads. Molly had been writing in her journal at his desk in the vision whilst he played the violin.

"Sherlock, don't," Molly pleaded when he scrambled away from her.

"No, I won't have any of your tricks," he told her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You've been working some kind of spell over me, but it's not going to work," Sherlock seethed.

"No I haven't!" Molly insisted.

"I won't love you, Molly," he growled. "Get. Out."

"But Sher—"

"GET OUT!"

Molly went out the door and he immediately slammed it shut. With his back against the door, he slid down it onto the floor. On the other side, Molly could hear his ragged breaths, suggesting he was possibly crying. She touched her hand to the door, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, but knew he needed space. So she left.

Sherlock didn't mean to be so cruel to her. He knew she wasn't doing anything to make him love her, but it was easier than accepting the fact he could possibly lose her. He lost his childhood friend because of what he and his family were. He knew he wouldn't be able to cope if he had hurt Molly whilst the moon was full. She had tamed him once, miraculously, but it wasn't guaranteed to happen again.

* * *

When Molly returned home, tears streaking her face, she searched for her looking glass. After finding a loose curl of Sherlock's on the pillow he had laid upon, she whispered an incantation until his image appeared in the small mirror. At this very moment, he was pacing his flat, his curls wild and unruly from fingers constantly running through them. He was stressed and visibly upset.

She caressed the image of him in her hand, when an idea came to her. She kissed two of her fingers and pressed them against the cool glass. A smile graced her lips as he momentarily splayed his own fingers to his cheek, confirming to her that he had felt her kiss.

"Molly," was all he said, his voice thick with emotion. That was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Uh oh, not looking good, y'all...


	5. Apologies and Revelations

Molly awoke some hours later in her bed, confused as to how she ended up here. The clock on her bedside table showed that it was a bit past four in the morning. The last thing she remembered was sending a kiss to Sherlock through her looking glass on the sofa. Her mind had been filled with terrifying images since the blackout. Miss Pierce's corpse appeared to her as well as the sing-song voice of a strange man calling out to her in a taunting fashion by saying 'mollycoddles.' It suspiciously sounded like an old ex from uni. And if it was the ex she was thinking of, her only regret in life, then she was in for a dangerous situation…and so was Sherlock.

"Molly?" his soft tone filled her with relief. She turned to face him lying beside her. "I was so worried. I had come over to apologise and you were unconscious. I'm so sorry, Molly." His voice broke on her name.

"I never forced you into anything, Sherlock, you need to know that," Molly told him. "You really hurt me."

"I know, darling," he replied. "I'm so very sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you. I was trying to push you away to protect you from me. You tamed me once, but if I ever hurt you, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

"Who hurt you?" she asked.

"What?"

"You heard me, Sherlock. What happened that makes you think you'd hurt me?" she questioned, caressing his cheek with her hand. "You're the most in control werewolf I've ever seen."

And so, Sherlock told her of what happened to Victor because of Eurus's inability to control herself on account of being a new wolf at the time. Molly took in all that he said and held him close to her.

"She was new, Sherlock," Molly pointed out. "You've been at this for years. Have you ever hurt a single person?"

"No, I—I haven't," he admitted. "But I have been close to it so many times."

"Well, if you ever seem too vicious, I could always suspend you in midair until you're human again," Molly spoke nonchalantly.

"Not funny," he growled, but couldn't help but give in to a slight smile. Molly looked amused.

"Eurus never got any better at controlling herself. Our brother has her locked up in a highly secure facility. She had to be tranquilized in order to get her there," he explained further.

"Oh, Sherlock, I'm so sorry you and your family had to go through all of that," she told him. "Have you ever visited her?"

"No," he answered. "I know I should have, but I just couldn't."

"Whenever you feel ready, I'll go with you to visit, if you'd like," Molly offered. He nodded silently, allowing himself to breathe in her scent. This became a very calming practice for him. Everything about her comforted him; she was comfort personified.

"What happened to you? Why were you unconscious?" Sherlock asked.

"I honestly don't know," she replied. "But I have a feeling that we're in danger if we investigate Miss Pierce's mysterious death."

"How so?" he pressed on.

"I think she was murdered…by a ghost," Molly admitted. Sherlock laughed. "Look, I'm serious, Sherlock!"

"I'm sorry, Molly, but really?" he chuckled.

"Oh, so you live in a world where you're a werewolf and I'm a witch, but yet, ghosts are impossible?" she shot back. "I'm pretty sure my blackout was caused by the very ghost of a person we have in common."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Sherlock asked.

"We investigate anyways," Molly grinned.

"That's my girl," he smiled, pressing his lips to hers fervently. Molly immediately reciprocated, slipping her tongue between the seam of his lips. She savored the feeling of his tongue tasting hers and the sounds he made at the contact. I love yous were exchanged breathlessly between them. Her fingers wound themselves in his curls, earning a moan from him. Sherlock tightened his arms around her waist, his fingers pressing into her back. She felt his right hand move up to cradle her head against his, kissing her more deeply.

The image of 221B came back clearer than ever. Molly was at the desk, in a silk midnight blue dressing gown, writing names in her journal; William Holmes, Charlotte Holmes, Victor Holmes, and so on. The moonstone ring glittered in the moonlight streaming through the windows. Sherlock was by the window closest to her, clad in green tartan pajama pants with a white t-shirt and his tan dressing gown over top. He was playing the most beautiful melody on his violin, looking at her with nothing but pure love and awe.

Then, it occurred to Molly that she was writing down baby names. The ring on her finger was the symbol of marriage, as it looked antique, despite how shiny it was. This was their life in the future still to come, which gave her hope that all would be well eventually. Did Sherlock realize what this meant? He was clever enough to figure it out.

"You have bewitched me, Molly Hooper," he suddenly spoke after they broke the kiss.

"I've done nothing of the sort," she said, feigning an innocent look.

"Mm, I don't mind, darling," Sherlock purred, nuzzling his nose against her neck. She gasped as his lips caressed the tender spot below her ear. "Am I forgiven?"

"Yes, my love," she breathed out, reveling in the feel of his lips on her skin, trailing down across her clavicle. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. He traced the top of her breasts with his nose, pressing kisses against her soft skin. He moved to gaze at her, his eyes filled with love for her, not unlike the vision they shared.

"I love you," he whispered, "most ardently."

"I love you too, Sherlock," she whispered back, "so very much."

* * *

They made weekend plans to investigate Miss Pierce's home in the Sussex countryside. Molly never revealed to Sherlock who, specifically, she suspected had done this. He never asked questions either. It occurred to her that they were already such a strong unit together. She only hoped that Sherlock's presence wouldn't get him injured. Ghosts could be very powerful depending on how much energy they could draw, and the energy of other supernatural beings was much stronger than that of mere humans. Whatever would happen, they were ready for it.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Any guesses on who the ghost is? Though I'm sure it's fairly obvious.


	6. Séance

"Big, creepy Victorian house…could this be any more of a cliché?" Molly stated as she and Sherlock took their weekend luggage out of the rental car. They were at Miss Pierce's home to investigate.

"Could be worse," Sherlock remarked. They stepped into the foyer, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet. There was a bit of a draft, leaving the air to feel cool. He followed Molly up the stairs to the second floor and into the master bedroom.

"Did you bring a lighter?" she asked.

"How did—"

"You still smoke a cigarette every now and then, Sherlock, you must have one on you," Molly deduced.

"Impressive observation," he smirked. "Yes, I do have it with me." Sherlock looked around the bedroom they were staying in together. "So, we're to sleep in the very room where Miss Pierce was suffocated to death by a homicidal ghost?"

"When you put it that way, you make me sound crazy," she laughed.

"You said before that you believe it is a person we have in common," Sherlock pointed out. "It's Moriarty isn't it? Murdering from beyond the grave?"

"That's who I believe it is, yes," Molly answered.

"I know you've said you met him before, but how exactly are you connected to him?" he questioned. "You and I met after I faked my death to save my friends from him. He had shot himself on that rooftop."

"I met him in uni," Molly told him. "We dated for a bit, nothing serious." She took a deep breath. "He had attempted to get into my knickers, so to speak, without my consent and I may or may not have hexed him. Needless to say, he doesn't like me very much."

"May or may not have?" Sherlock chuckled. "Dear Lord, Molly, that is quite the backstory." He watched as she unpacked five white pillar candles and a Ouija board.

"Here, wear this," she instructed him, holding out an antique ring with a peridot gemstone in the center. Molly was wearing an old Victorian necklace with peridot and pearls.

"And what does this do?" he asked, slipping the ring onto his pinky, as it was the only finger it would fit.

"Peridot has mystical properties that protects you from evil spirits," Molly explained.

"And what do the pearls on your necklace do?" he questioned further.

"They protect from harm in general. In the dark ages, knights wore pearls into battle to protect them," Molly told him.

"Does any of this actually work?" Sherlock wondered.

"Yes, it does and it's very effective," she responded, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I know you don't really believe in this side of the supernatural, but trust me on this. I know what I'm doing."

"I trust you with my life, Molly," he confessed. "And my heart." She rose on her toes to press a soft kiss to his luscious lips before taking the items downstairs in the sitting room. Sherlock felt a tingling sensation as an after effect from her affections. He realized that what he felt was the magic within her, giving him a taste.

* * *

When evening passed and night settled upon them, covering the sky in inky black with bright stars shining through, Molly and Sherlock gathered in the sitting room. The Ouija board was set on the coffee table between them. Only one candle was lit so they could see. They sat on the floor across from one another, both of them with a finger on the planchette.

"Suppose we'll start with the basics," she told him. "Use our energy and tell us your name." Nothing was happening but it was eerily quiet throughout the house. Molly felt a chill run through her. "Something's here."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I feel drained of energy," she replied. "Whatever is about to happen requires a lot." Then the planchette began moving frantically to the point where they had to take their fingers off of it. Sherlock's eyes widened as he watched it move about on its own.

 **M-O-R-I-A-R-T-Y**

The planchette stopped suddenly after spelling out the name. Molly knew it was him but this confirmed it. There was a reprieve, but it was short-lived. The table shook violently as the planchette moved about once more.

 **H-E-L-L-O M-O-L-LY-C-O-D-D-L-E-S**

As soon as it hit the last letter, the planchette was thrown across the room, nearly hitting Sherlock's head.

"Are you okay?" Molly asked him.

"I am. You?" he questioned.

"I'm fine," she replied. "I just hate that I was right." Molly placed the board on the sofa behind her and brought the other four candles to the center, lighting each one with the flame of the lit one. She arranged them in a star formation, each pillar designed to be a point on the star.

"What are we doing now?" Sherlock inquired.

"We're having a séance. Take my hands," she instructed. He did as he was told, gripping her hands tightly in his. It would be an understatement to say he was worried for her. The truth is, Sherlock was terrified of Moriarty hurting Molly. "James Moriarty, I call on you to show yourself." Her tone was strong and powerful.

A moment passed before the flames on the candles rose higher. After a couple of seconds, they went back down, but all of this had fascinated and terrified Sherlock all at the same time. Molly closed her eyes once more.

"Why did you kill Miss Pierce?" she asked. Molly's eyes flew open and stared at the candles in deep concentration.

"Molly, what's wrong?" Sherlock was concerned.

"He's trying to get inside," was all she said. "I'm stronger than you. You cannot possess me; I won't let you." The double windows behind Sherlock flew open, the chilled autumn breeze coming through. The flames of the candles were put out by the force of it. A dark shadow passed by the open window with the moonlight illuminating it. With a snap of her fingers, the candles were lit once more.

"Why did you need my lighter if you could've done that?" Sherlock asked.

"I felt like going by the book," she shrugged. Her eyes glanced down to his right hand. "Sherlock, where's your ring?" It was gone. He was still for a moment and she watched as his eyes rolled back in his head. "Sherlock!" Nothing. Then he pulled her arm towards him roughly.

"Hello, Molly, did you miss me?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, Sherlock's been possessed by Moriarty...things are looking absolutely sinister. Quick note - I have never used a Ouija board, nor would I ever. I have attempted a séance before though and received the voice of my great grandmother on my recording device, so there's that lol.


	7. Dust to Dust

Molly tugged her arm away out of his grip and scrambled to where the ring lay on the area rug. Moriarty had taken full possession of Sherlock's body and lunged after her. _I'm sorry about this, Sherlock_ , she thought loudly. Molly used her magic to send him flying back into the wall. A deranged laugh escaped his lips.

"Mollycoddles, you wound me," he spoke dramatically. "It is quite fun using Sherlock's body to hurt you. Lucky me that my two worst enemies decided to team up."

"Leave him alone, now!" she shouted.

"And leave myself without a way to get my revenge on you? I don't think so," he shook his head—or rather, Sherlock's head. "You hexed me you bitch!"

"That's witch, you bastard," she told him. He advanced on her, pinning her against the ground.

"Maybe I should finish what I started," Moriarty threatened. "And all while using the body of the man you love." Molly gripped the ring in her hand and forced it back on Sherlock's finger. She took his face in her hands, still seeing Moriarty's sinister expression.

"Sherlock, listen to me, you need to fight him. Push him out of your mind," Molly told him. "You are strong enough, just look at me. Take all the strength you need from me through my magic. I believe in you, Sherlock Holmes." She could see that he was fighting as his face changed into a softer expression.

"Molly, need more," was all Sherlock could muster before Moriarty fought back. She still held his face in her hands and brought his head down to kiss him. There was no lack of passion in it, as there seemed to be literal sparks igniting within both of them. The tingling of her magic enveloped them both. A strong, supernatural wind swept through the house, sending any loose papers flying about the place. Moriarty was forced out of Sherlock's body and now appeared to them as a translucent ghost.

"Welcome back, my love," she smiled as their lips broke away.

"Thank you, darling," he spoke softly.

"Yes, yes, it's all very touching," Moriarty rolled his eyes. Sherlock scrambled to his feet and helped Molly up off the floor. His apparition disappeared, leaving to wreak havoc on the cabinets in the kitchen. They were rattling all at once.

"We need to get upstairs to get the sage," Molly whispered in Sherlock's ear. He nodded and the pair of them quickly climbed the stairway. Whilst she went in search for the sage in her bag, Sherlock stood outside in the hallway, keeping watch. Molly had just made it to the door when it shut forcibly.

"Molly!" he shouted, doing all he could to get the door open. "Try your magic, darling, it won't budge."

"I am trying!" she told him from the other side of the door. All of the lights in the house began flickering on and off as the first sound of thunder boomed outside. A flash of lightning nearly made her jump out of her skin.

"Oh, poor Mollykins and her ordinary Sherlock," Moriarty taunted.

"Stand back, Molly," Sherlock told her.

"What, why? What are you doing!?" she asked.

"I'm going to try to shift at will," he told her.

"Is that even possible?" Molly questioned.

"We're about to find out," Sherlock growled. She went to the far side of the room, listening to him shift into his wolf form. Before she knew it, he had taken the door off of its hinges. Molly took in the sight of him—onyx fur, viridian eyes—and breathed a sigh of relief that even as a wolf, he still looked at her the same way; with love, not hunger.

"Sherlock?" she called to him softly. Molly sat on her knees in her black dress with her purple and grey striped leggings. Her hand was outstretched towards him. He walked over to her calmly as if he were a normal domesticated dog. He bowed his head down to her, letting Molly know it was okay to touch him. He did not expect her to hug him. Sherlock reveled in the feeling of her dainty fingers stroking his fur. "You are such a gorgeous wolf, you know that?" She laughed when he snorted at her.

They stayed like that for a few moments, cuddled together. He nosed at the sage on the floor beside her and Molly got the message that she needed to begin expelling Moriarty's spirit from the realm of the living.

"Sherlock, you bugger," she giggled when he licked her face. "Come with me to bless the house?" He nodded and followed her out of the room. Molly lit the sage with his lighter and began a walkthrough. "You are unwanted here, James Moriarty. Leave this realm and never return." A snarl erupted from Sherlock as Moriarty's apparition appeared in the last room they had to go in. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Molly went into a deep concentration of repeating a Latin incantation. Sherlock watched as Moriarty slowly disintegrated with ever repetition of her spell.

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._ "

Moriarty disappeared in a flash of light, leaving nothing but ash and dust in his wake. The worst was over now. Molly smiled, pleased with her work. She knelt down beside Sherlock and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Come on, how about I help you turn back again," she offered, but he shook his head. Molly furrowed her brows in confusion but quickly realized he was going to attempt to turn back on his own. After all, it should go both ways, should it not? Sherlock concentrated on how it felt to turn back and soon enough he was human once more. Cold and naked, but human nevertheless. Molly averted her eyes to the ceiling.

"Molly," he called to her, his tone gentle. She felt him take her hand in his and she continued to avoid looking at him. "Please look at me." Her eyes met his and found a peace in his gaze.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "I'm sorry for throwing you against the wall."

"It's alright, darling, you had no choice," he chuckled.

"Come on," she said, "let's get you warm and clothed."

* * *

After Molly sparked a fire to life in the fireplace in the large master bedroom, she climbed into bed where Sherlock was reading her grimoire.

"What do you think you're doing, mister?" she teased, scooting closer to lay her head over his bare chest. He was so very warm and the sound of his heartbeat had a calming effect on her.

"Reading your grimoire of course. I thought it was fairly obvious," he replied, never taking his eyes off the pages. She felt him wrap his free arm around her, pulling her closer.

"Those spells are practically trade secrets of my coven," Molly told him. "I shouldn't even allow you to read it."

"Mm, and you plan to stop me?" he asked. She nodded. "How would you convince me to put this very interesting book down?" Sherlock was being playful and Molly loved it.

"Like this," she murmured before moving to press her lips to his, one leg thrown over his torso. He put the book down on the bedside table and wrapped both of his arms around her.

"Molly," he sighed in pleasure as she sprinkled kisses over the expanse of his neck. She traced her lips along his jawline and up over his cheekbones.

"I love you," Molly whispered, nuzzling her nose against his.

"And I you, my darling," he replied with a smile. They reveled in the comfortable silence that settled over them until Sherlock moved her onto her back and kissed her fervently. "Do you really think I'm a gorgeous wolf?" He flashed her a wolfish grin, much fitting for the topic at hand.

"Yes, you silly bugger," she giggled, pulling him down for another session of snogging. It wasn't long before clothes were shed and a new vision arose as they made love to each other for the first time.

 _They were dancing in the woods, the only light came from the moon and the fireflies. They were both barefoot, feeling the blades of grass between their toes. Sherlock picked her up in his arms and spun her around, eliciting a joyous laugh from her lips. His curls were unruly and her hair was braided to the side messily. Molly wore a flowing aubergine bohemian skirt that went to her ankles with a simple black bandeau. The moonstone ring was still on her left hand, but now there was an amethyst crystal pendant around her neck as well. Sherlock's white dress shirt was over his shoulders but not buttoned up. It was open, revealing his chest to her. He still wore his usual dress pants as well. They were just dancing and happy together. Molly had used her magic to levitate them and were literally dancing on air._

The vision had ended there after reaching the pinnacle of their joining, but quickly realized they had been levitating two inches off of the bed. They burst out laughing, trying to catch their breath.

"I may have gotten carried away," she giggled, lowering them back down.

"Does that happen all the time?" he asked.

"It's never happened before, actually," she informed him. Sherlock curled around her, molding himself against her whilst basking in the afterglow together. Molly's fingertips tingled with her magic and she traced them up and down his arm. She felt him shiver at her touch, letting her know he felt her magic too.

"Feels nice," he murmured in her ear, nibbling on it affectionately. "Mm, my Molly." They fell asleep one after the other with visions of their future replaying in their heads.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I love writing me some BAMF!Molly lol! Sherlock was pretty BAMF too knocking the door off its hinges to get to Molly. So, what did y'all think? Any questions about my choices or inspiration?


	8. Got a Secret Can You Keep It?

**sorry for the delay...I've been a bit down in the dumps lately but thanks to the lovely author, and regular reviewer, Phoebe_Snow, I found my motivation again. Thank you so much, darlin!**

* * *

Molly groaned when the sunlight streamed through the windows. She could hear Sherlock give a light chuckle as he pressed sweet kisses behind her ear.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he whispered.

"Mmm, good morning," she smiled. Molly turned over on her other side to face him. Her fingers feathered over his cheekbone as she took in the image of him. His lips still looked beautifully swollen from their lovemaking the night before and his curls were tousled about, springing from every which way. "You're such a beautiful man." His lips quirked up in a small smile.

"Well, I must say you, Molly Hooper"—he kissed her lips—"are the most gorgeous, enchanting woman I have ever encountered." Her heart swelled with so much love for this man. "So, are you going to tell me, or should I deduce it?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Those visions…we've had two of them now," Sherlock pointed out. "And on the night you helped me, you had asked me if I knew a William Holmes."

"The truth is, I had this recurring dream of writing the name 'William Holmes' in a journal. I had been having it since I turned thirteen. Little bits were revealed as time went on and we bonded more. Then you saw it when you kissed me…we both did," she explained. "We were in your flat and I was writing three different names in a journal at your desk whilst you played violin."

"How could you know the composition I have been creating for you?" he asked.

"You—You're composing for me?" Molly questioned in surprise.

"Of course I am," he replied. "You left out an important detail, though." Molly waited for him to continue. "You were wearing a very important piece of jewelry." She swallowed hard. "My grandmother's ring to be exact. I'd know that moonstone anywhere. So what are these visions?"

"They're premonitions of our future," she admitted. "Please, don't run away from me."

"Why on earth would I run away from you?" he asked. "Molly, I love you more than I can truly express. If anything, these visions please me. I would love nothing more than to be your husband one day. To have you as my wife."

* * *

Molly had no choice but to rule Miss Pierce's death as a suicide. After all, the MET would never believe it was the evil spirit of Jim Moriarty.

"Don't worry, you have justice now," she spoke to the corpse of Miss Pierce that she had reanimated. Sherlock was observing everything about the interaction. Needless to say, it fascinated him.

"Thank you, kindly," Miss Pierce managed to get out before the magic wore off and she was once again inanimate.

"You're welcome," Molly spoke quietly.

"Ugh, freak's here," Sally Donovan rolled her eyes, whilst Greg followed behind. Sherlock watched as Molly's eyes narrowed at the intolerable woman.

"Tell me the truth as to why you're so rude," Molly muttered under her breath.

"It's not fair that he solves more cases than I've ever been able to and he's always so bloody correct and smug about it," Sally prattled on. Sherlock smirked in his enchantress's direction. So, jealousy is why Sally was always such a git to him.

"Right then," John remarked to fill the silence. He sensed there was something strange happening, but didn't feel the need to question it. His eyes were glued to Molly and Sherlock with the way they would communicate with specific looks. It was like a secret language of their own.

* * *

Everything fell apart two months later, secrets being revealed. Sherlock was usually very careful not to be around John or to take cases on the nights with a full moon. Even though he now knew how to shift back of his own will, if he was too hungry, it wouldn't be so easy. The night came when John noticed that his friend always skipped these nights no matter how highly rated a case was. So, he took it upon himself to see if Molly knew anything.

"John," Molly shrieked, "this isn't really a good time." A growl sounded from within her flat.

"Did you get a dog?" he asked.

"Um, yes, I did," she replied. "Was there something you needed?"

"Have you seen Sherlock? I know you two have been a bit serious lately," he asked. _A bit serious is an understatement_ , Molly thought.

"Um, you know, I—I don't know really," she stumbled.

"Just let him in, Molly," Sherlock's voice suddenly sounded. She allowed John inside.

"Jesus, Sherlock I thought you were off getting high again," he told him. Sherlock tied the dressing gown. "And why are you having sweet Molly lie? And—y-your…"

"Ears," Molly whispered. He still had the ears of his wolf form.

"Help me?" Sherlock asked. John looked on, dumbfounded, as Molly transformed his friend's ears back into human.

"Alright, somebody tell me what the bloody hell is going on here!" he shouted, clearly panicking.

"John, calm down," he told him.

"I swear to God, if you've drugged me or—"

"He hasn't drugged you, John, he's, well, a—"

"Werewolf," Sherlock finished. "And Molly's a witch." She nodded in confirmation.

"Oh, well, if that's all," John crossed his arms. "How could you keep that from me?"

"I'll leave you two to talk," Molly told them.

As she stepped into her bedroom and closed the door, a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Scream and you're dead," a feminine voice, smooth as silk, spoke in her ear.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Uh oh...who could it be?


	9. Bad Blood

It was cold, dark and damp. Molly awoke in a dungeon built with stone. There were broken chains on the floor beside her. She immediately realized this must have been where Sherlock used to stay during full moons before they met.

"Good, you're awake," Irene spoke as she stepped into the dungeon. "It's boring when your prisoner is unconscious." Molly immediately tried to use her magic to pin the posh woman to the wall, but nothing happened.

"What"—Molly noticed the necklace around Irene's neck—"you're wearing bloodstone."

"Observant little witch," Irene smirked. "it's a good thing there are gemstones that protect others from magic."

"What do you want with me?" she asked.

"Nothing, really," Irene replied. "It's more that I want you to stay away from Sherlock."

"You don't scare me," she shot back.

"Stay away from him, Miss Hooper," she snarled.

"Over my dead body," Molly fumed.

"That, my dear, can be arranged," she spoke, flashing her fangs.

* * *

Sherlock was full of worry when he and John couldn't find Molly anywhere in her flat. He would have lost hope of finding her soon if it hadn't been for the blood red fake nail on her bedroom floor.

"John, go home," he told him

"What? No, Sherlock, if you know where Molly is, I'm helping," John argued. "I don't care how out of my depth I am."

"Irene took her," Sherlock informed him.

"The dominatrix? Why?" he asked.

"She's a vampire and we have to hurry," he spoke as he threw on his Belstaff.

They arrived in Belgravia as quickly as possible, but not before hearing a bloodcurdling scream.

* * *

Irene's fangs sunk into Molly's neck, intending to drain her completely. Molly took advantage of their proximity and yanked the necklace from around Irene's neck. She felt the fangs come out of her skin. Molly screamed to heighten her power against the undead woman, pinning her to the stone wall.

"Now, you listen to me," Molly snapped. "I don't know what you want with Sherlock, but you will not be laying a finger on him, do you understand?"

"Oh, darling, I've already laid my fingers on him," Irene quipped. The innuendo was obvious. "I intended to make him a hybrid; half vampire, half werewolf."

"And if I don't want to be?" Sherlock's baritone voice boomed like an echo throughout the dungeon. John stayed close behind.

"Oh, but why wouldn't you? You'd be so much more powerful," her eyes glowed with the possibility.

"Do you honestly think that power is what I want? I can hardly stand this curse my family is under, but it has been tolerable since I found Molly," Sherlock told her. "And seeing the puncture wound in her neck is most intolerable." He was growling at Irene now. "You hurt my Molly."

"She would've been dead already if it were up to me," Irene hissed. "But it seems Moriarty failed after what I went through to conjure him up again. It seems if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

"Hold my coat, John," Sherlock told him, handing him his Belstaff. "Stand back." With a roar, he transformed, immediately lunging for Irene. Molly jumped back slightly but put an invisible wall between him and Irene.

"Sherlock, don't," she ordered. "You're better than this. I know you are." Molly kneeled down beside him without an ounce of fear. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, a slight whine sounding from him as his eyes locked on the blood dripping from her wound. Approaching her slowly, Sherlock darted his tongue out to clean the puncture marks, also healing it quickly with his saliva. Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his fur.

"As nauseatingly sweet as this reunion is, I need what I want," she sneered, tackling Sherlock to the ground. Irene attempted to nip at him but he fought her every advance. He did not want to be a hybrid and refused to give in. She slammed him into the stone wall, breaking the firm structure with his strength. Moonlight streamed through the cracks but it wouldn't be long before dawn arrived. Irene dug a sharp nail into Sherlock's fur, drawing blood. He yelped and howled at the pain.

"Pain," Molly spoke flatly, her eyes focused on Irene who crumbled into a fetus position on the ground, her hands cradling her head. She screamed out in agony. The dawn was arriving, sparks of sunlight find its way through, leaving burn marks on Irene's skin.

"Molly," Sherlock spoke, having shifted back. John covered his eyes as he threw the Belstaff to his friend. "Darling, look at me." He caressed her face in his hands and her eyes refocused on him. "There's my girl."

"Sherlock," it came out as a question. "I couldn't let her hurt you."

"Shhh, I know, it's okay," he comforted her. "I'll have Mycroft take care of her; lock her up at Sherrinford where my sister is currently." Molly held onto him tightly. "I'll take you back to Baker Street, okay? We'll have tea and you can stay with me tonight. Okay, darling?" She nodded and he led her out, John following behind, leaving Irene in the dungeon.

* * *

"Thank you for your help, John," Sherlock told him as they arrived at Baker Street. "Tell Mary I said hi."

"Mary? Mary Morstan?" Molly asked.

"Y-yeah, how did you know?" John questioned.

"She's in my coven…you didn't know, did you?" Molly explained.

"No, I—I didn't," he admitted. "But that explains a lot." He chuckled slightly.

Sherlock and Molly exited the cab and went up to his flat. He lifted her, not without wincing in pain, and settled her on the sofa.

"Sit," she told him.

"I'm not a dog," he joked.

"Haha very funny," Molly laughed. "Seriously, though, sit down." Sherlock did as he was told. He felt her fingers skimming his hot skin as she slid the coat off of his shoulders. His back was all scratched up and already bruising. He growled slightly when she traced the wounds with her finger tips, but felt the pain slowly ebb away. She was healing him with magic.

"Molly," he sighed with pleasure when her lips pressed against the back of his shoulder. He was completely bare to her and wanted nothing more than to give her the love she deserved.

"I think tea will have to wait," she smirked, reading his mind. "You think so loudly."

"Can you blame me?" he replied, capturing her lips with his.

"Mmm, think I can make you howl in human form?" Molly flirted.

"Only one way to find out," he murmured before scooping her up in his arms, eliciting a surprised squeal from her, carrying her off to the bedroom.

* * *

Sherlock held her in his arms, turning her hand over in his. He was admiring the moonstone ring on her finger. He had suddenly proposed whilst in the throes of passion, murmuring the words 'marry me' to her. She accepted him quite enthusiastically. Now, they lay together in the aftermath, basking in the glow of it all.

"It's even more gorgeous in person," Molly remarked as her ring glittered in the light streaming through the windows.

"Only for you," he replied with a smile. "I love you, my darling Molly."

"And I you, my love," she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his. They lazily kissed one another until they drifted off to sleep one by one. The worst was over and their predetermined future was beginning. They found comfort in each other's arms, the pain of the past wiped away. It was a brand new day, after all.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This was quite fun to write oh my goodness! There will be only one more chapter after this...the epilogue. :)


	10. A Spirited Epilogue

**One year later, a Halloween party is thrown at 221B, but who's ghost is visiting on Samhain?**

* * *

"Ow!" Sherlock yelped when Molly plucked a hair from his head. "What was that for?"

"My love potion, don't you know," she smirked.

"My darling, you already have me," he told her. "You look gorgeous." It was All Hallow's Eve and Molly was dressed in a purple and black witch's dress with black fishnet leggings and a matching hat. Her hair had been crimped and left down with her eyes lined in black. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"Thank you, love. Samhain is the only time of year I can be open about who I really am," Molly explained. "It's freeing, though I haven't had to account for a pregnancy before." Sherlock caressed the small swell of her belly through the fabric of her dress. She was only three months along but possessed that maternal glow about her.

"You're carrying our daughter beautifully, Molly Holmes," he smiled, pressing his lips to hers.

"Mm, as much as I'd like to continue, John and Mary will be here with little Rosie soon," Molly told him. They were having a small gathering for Halloween and Molly had gone all out decorating 221B. She had managed to get a real skeleton propped up beside the window where purple and orange fairy lights lined them. The kitchen table had a cauldron filled with dry ice, giving the flat an eerie fog. The coffee table had spiderweb candy bowls and Molly's grimoire set about. There were fake cobwebs (and some real ones.) The flat smelled like sweet cinnamon and warm cloves.

"I shall return to you momentarily," Sherlock told her before going off into the bedroom to change into his costume.

"Come in," Molly called out when a knock sounded at the door and John and Mary stepped inside. "Why isn't John in costume?"

"I am," he argued.

"Dressing up as your own profession doesn't count," Mary scolded. With a snap of her fingers, his nose shifted into that of a pig's.

"Cut that out," he complained.

"Whiny doctor," Mary laughed.

"More like swine doctor," Molly joined in. Sherlock's chuckle was heard by all of them as he exited the bedroom in a pirate costume.

"Don't be such a spoilsport, John," he berated his friend. "They're both restless witches who are carrying our children…I think they deserve to have a little bit of fun." John knew he was right. Toby mewed, circling Molly's feet. "And besides, it's also Molly's birthday."

"It is? Well, happy birthday!" John exclaimed. Suddenly, the lights went out and a slight breeze blew past them. "Wha—what's happening?"

"I don't know," Mary and Molly said simultaneously. They began chanting together. "Servatis a periculum, servatis a maleficum."

"What does that mean?" John whispered to his friend.

"It translates to, 'save yourselves from danger, save yourselves from evil,'" Sherlock answered. The lights came back to life and that's when Molly noticed the small spider atop of the skull that adorned the fireplace.

"Spiders on Samhain means that a dearly departed loved one is near," Molly explained to them. "Who are you?" Sherlock's pirate hat was knocked off of his head and onto the floor. "Someone get a voice recorder up on their phone." Mary did so quickly.

"Listen to us—use our energy and talk to us," Mary instructed. "Please tell us your name." They waited a moment and played the recording back.

"Redbeard," the disembodied voice spoke.

"Victor," Sherlock's voice broke, placing his hat back on his head. An apparition began to appear and a child appeared. He was here, making himself known.

"It's okay, Yellowbeard," Victor told him, attempting to grasp Sherlock's hand. "I'm okay." Sherlock nodded in understanding. His childhood friend wanted him to stop being hard on himself and give him the knowledge that he was alright. The apparition disappeared having fulfilled his goal.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked as her husband made his way into their bedroom. To John and Mary, "Excuse me a moment." She followed and sat on the bed beside him. "Are you okay, darling?"

"I am," he spoke quietly. "Just processing." Molly laid her head on his shoulder whilst threading her arm through his, holding onto him. There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for hours, but then she felt his lips on hers. They rejoined John and Mary, celebrating the rest of the night.

When their friends left, Sherlock took to playing the song he had composed for Molly once he changed into his pajamas and dressing gown. Molly sat at the desk, writing out their name choices: Willow Holmes, Charlotte Holmes, and Victoria Holmes. The vision couldn't predict what their baby's gender was, which is why there was a mixed amount of male and female names, but now they knew it was a girl.

"How about Victoria Willow Holmes?" Molly asked. He suddenly stopped playing. "You know, named after both you and Victor."

"Molly, that sounds perfect," Sherlock told her. He took her left hand, the moonstone glittering in the moonlight streaming through the windows, and helped her up from the chair, holding her close. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. "I love you so much," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. They danced together slowly in their sitting room, reveling in the moment. Molly pressed soft kisses to his neck as they swayed to the sound of their own hearts beating. This was the type of bliss they had both always sought after and now they had it. They had been enchanted by one another at first meeting, falling hard and fast in love. And so, the witch and the werewolf found happiness together, awaiting their newest member of the family, living happily ever after (but not without a few spooks along the way.)

* * *

 **Author's Note:** thank y'all so much for going on this AU journey with me! I had SO much fun with this!


End file.
